Incoming Text
by bowlerhatfringe
Summary: Lovino Vargas just wanted to text his brother's new cellphone. Instead, he accidentally texts this guy named 'Spain'. What the heck? Moreover, this guy just won't stop freakin' texting Lovino! SPAMANO & AU
1. New Message!

**TITLE: **Incoming Text Message  
><strong>FANDOM: <strong>Hetalia  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>SPAMANO. GERITA and SEYFRA mentioned in passing.  
><strong>SUMMARY: <strong> Lovino Vargas just wanted to text his brother's new cellphone. Instead, he accidentally texts this guy named 'Spain'. What the heck? Moreover, this guy just won't stop freakin' texting Lovino!  
><strong>RATING: <strong>T  
><strong>WARNINGS: <strong>Swearing, AU, fluff, cliché-crap, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>WORD COUNT: <strong>1628**  
><strong>**SONG: **Telephone- Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce

_a/n:_ N-now as you all know (well, readers of _Helados y Besos_ at least) I'm super unconfident about writing my OTP, Spamano. P-please be gentle in your reviews (not that you guys haven't been so wonderfully kind and lovely already). Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and pointers in general on how to keep Lovino and Antonio in character. _Mucho gracias!  
>an2:_ Ah yes, I do own a cell phone and yes, I know people use lingo. BUT UGH. I'm one of those people who MUST USE GRAMMAR AND PROPER PUNCTUATION IN TEXTS.

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Hetalia, Marc Jacobs bags, Dead Space, or iPhones by APPLE. Also, all the numbers in this fanfiction are FAKE.

* * *

><p><strong>INCOMING TEXT: Feliciano Vargas<br>****To: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>_Ve~ Fratello, I'm cancelling this phone! Ludwig went out and helped me pick out a new one! :D My new number is 613-401-6756!_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>**To: Feliciano Vargas  
><strong>_Then why not text me when you get your new phone? C'mon, use some common sense. And stop hanging around that potato bastard so much!_

**INCOMING TEXT: Feliciano Vargas  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>_Oh! I didn't think of that! I'm at Ludwig's place right now, so how about you text me and I'll save your number? I'm throwing out this phone right now, so please text my new phone v(^_^) P.S: Ve~, but Ludwig is my boyfriend! How can I not hang out with him, fratello?_

**INCOMING TEXT: Alfred Jones  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>_Hey! Are we still hanging out tonight? My place, Iggy, Michelle, me + you=DEAD SPACE MARATHON!11!1 :D_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>**To: Alfred Jones  
><strong>_Yeah. Might as well. And when did Michelle get back in town? I thought she was in Seychelles with her family._

**INCOMING TEXT: Alfred Jones  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>_She never went! LOL! She was mooching off of Francis for a month. :P_

Hm. Figures Michelle would do that. She'd never been too fond of her over-affectionate parents, and always figured out ways to avoid the pair. And of course, she also had an infatuation with the French Bastard (AKA Francis). So she probably plotted _that_ arrangement (and _ew_, Lovino didn't even _want_ to think about all the horrible, disgusting, and _nasty_ 'mishaps' Michelle and Francis would get into… ugh).

Sighing, Lovino slipped his iPhone into his jeans pocket, proceeding to glare furiously at his notebook. He'd been _trying_ to write his homework his Art History class, but he was failing miserably. His brother, Feliciano, whom he was protecti—_annoyed_ of, kept texting him. He was sure his fucking iPhone would combust at any moment from his over-flowing inbox. Not to mention Alfred texting him a mile a minute. Lovino _swore_ that all American's were born with fucking cell phones attached to their fingers—how else would they be able to type a mile a minute and reply in a ridiculous amount of seconds?

… A-and it wasn't like Lovino _enjoyed_ the text messages. It w-wasn't like he felt like he wasn't ignored anymore by his peers… H-hell no! H-He _hated_ cell phones! He only got one so he could keep an eye (or, in this case, ear) on his little brother from a one Potato Bastard!

Yeah!

…

… Okay fine. It was also to talk to his group of friends, Alfred, Arthur, and Michelle…

Lovino shut his notebook, giving up on the idea of even bothering to complete his homework. If he had really wanted to, he wouldn't have come to busiest diner in town and he wouldn't have left his iPhone on.

Just as he slipped his notebook into his Marc Jacobs messenger bag, a pretty waitress sashayed over, a metal tray held by her hip and her bright, pink and checkered uniform nearly blinding him.

… What? He liked eating at cheesy, 70's themed family restaurants! _So what?_ He just came here when the regular, yummy pasta restaurants weren't open and other shit excuses like that…

The girl clucked her tongue, seemingly annoyed with the Italian's lack of response. Her pale, freckly hand reached for the pencil behind her ear, then pulling a notepad out of her ruffled white apron. "What can I get for you, hon?"

"The regular combo meal, please." He said, putting on his best polite-face (which was almost as good as his I-surrender-so-please-put-me-down face).

The girl nodded, writing the order down before she walked away, heels clicking and clacking against the floor like a secretary on a chase. Lovino pulled out his iPhone, scowling, as it pinged _again_.

**INCOMING TEXT: Alfred Jones  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>_Bring some chips, plllzz? Iggy says he's bringing scones and the last thing we need is everyone choking due to a burned up esophagus!_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>**To: Alfred Jones  
><strong>_You're pretty damn lucky I'm already out. I'll pick up a few bags on my way there._

… _Also, I'm impressed that you were able to spell esphagus on your phone. _

**INCOMING TEXT: Alfred Jones  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>_Hahaha I'm using the iPhone, remember? AUTO COCK FOR THE WIN__**!**_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovino Vargas  
><strong>**To: Alfred Jones**_**  
><strong>__Yeah, because you totally didn't just let auto-correct fuck up what you said. Nope. Not at all._

**INCOMING TEXT: Alfred Jones  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas**_**  
><strong>_… _huh?_

**INCOMING TEXT: Alfred Jones  
><strong>**To: Lovino Vargas**_**  
><strong>__OHH I SEE! LMFAOOOO. THAT'S PRETTY FUNNY, ACTUUALLLLYYY! 8D_

"Idiot." Lovino said out loud, fighting the twitching corners of his lip that tried to turn up. Then he remembered he should probably text Feliciano's new phone, lest his other half do something stupid and wasn't able to contact him.

… Lovino frowned. Wait, what was the number again? He browsed through his previous messages and found his brother's, reading the number hurriedly before clicking the message shut and starting a new text.

Six one three, four-o-one, six seven eight nine.

**INCOMING TEXT: +6134013427  
><strong>**To: Unknown Number  
><strong>_Here's my number. You better not fucking lose it while texting that stupid potato sucking bastard. I'll be at Alfred's tonight, so remember to heat up the pasta I wrapped up in the fridge._

_-LOVINO_

"Here's your meal sir, sorry for the wait." A new waitress said, an odd, cat like smirk on her face. Her name tag read 'Femke' and she had short, wavy blonde hair. Lovino recognized her—but the notion passed as he accepted the meal, nodding in thanks.

There were very few moments where Lovino actually indulged in eating _burgers_. Especially calorie loaded, sauce infested, soggy tomato invaded burgers like the ones he was holding with both hands right now. It was that stupid American's fault, of course. With years of hanging out with Alfred (they went _way_ back), Lovino grew accustomed to burgers.

Wolfing down his burger (table manners were for expensive restaurants only, s-sheesh!), he nearly started as his iPhone bleeped out its usual text ringtone. Dropping the patty onto his plate, he flicked the 'Lock' button and stared it his phone, eyes widening in confusion and shock.

**INCOMING TEXT: +6134016789  
><strong>**To: 6134013427  
><strong>_Ahaha, I believe you have the wrong number. Well, unless you're coming onto me, that is~! ;)_

_Enjoying how adorably funny your text was,_

_Spain_

What. The. _Fuck_? Lovino glared at his phone, nearly jumping out of his seat. D-did someone steal his brother's phone? Feliciano _did_ tell him that was the number, r-right? Maybe Feliciano fucked up writing it—NO! Feliciano was smart with some things (art, being kind, making friends_, etc etc ETC_), and memory was one of them. He _must've_ given Lovino the right number!

… Damn, maybe… Lovino quickly went through his previous texts, searching for the number—

Six one three, four-o-one, six seven_ five six_. Not _eight nine_.

… Lovino didn't put in the right number, after all.

Furious at his own mistake as he realized, _yes_, he screwed up the number, he _really_ needed to vent his anger.

That's why he texted that weirdo 'Spain' back as he paid for his meal, left the diner, and stormed across the street to the nearest convenience store for chips.

**INCOMING TEXT: 6134013427  
><strong>**To: ****6134016789  
><strong>_Nobody would come on to a random stranger, bastardo! And texting someone by mistake isn't adorable! It's embarrassing and creepy, you jerk!_

_-LOVINO_

**INCOMING TEXT: ****6134016789  
><strong>**To: 6134013427  
><strong>_Well, some people hit on strangers, right? And yesyesyesyes it's CUTTTEE! You're probably very flustered, si?_

_Laughing with you, not at you,_

_Spain_

W-… what a _creep_! Lovino grabbed four random flavours of chips and went to the cash, not looking up from his cell as he furiously tapped letters and exclamation points.

'Send'.

**INCOMING TEXT: 6134013427  
><strong>**To: ****6134016789  
><strong>_Only girls! I'm a guy! And I'm assuming you're a guy too, so stop being so damn creepy! And get rid of my number!_

_-LOVINO_

A phone ping sounded as the cashier rang up Lovino's items, he chuckled, stopped _in the middle of his job_, and picked up his phone. Lovino placed his bag on the ground (agh, Lovino _hated_ doing that to his Marc Jacob _baby!), _finally looking at the cashier properly, ready to bitch him out.

… And Lovino was not prepared to see someone so _handsome—_No! UGLY. Yes! The cashier had a face a _m-mother_ could only love!

… H-he definitely did _not_ have brown, curly hair and bright, energetic green eyes. And the cashier was certainly not wonderfully tanned and _oh were those sexy bicep muscles? Hel_lo_! _Was this guy Latin? Lovino had a thing for Latin guys_—_

"Ahaha! This guy is funny!" he suddenly exclaimed, and Lovino took a few steps back in surprise. He regained his footing, instantly glaring at the (_gorgeous_) cashier.

"Are you going to fucking take my debit card or _what_? Stop texting on the job, damn it!"

The guy looked up from his phone, smile never dropping. "Oh! Yes! Silly me!" He grabbed the debit card from Lovino's currently outstretched hand, swiping it through the machine and passing it to Lovino so the Italian could punch in his password numbers.

Two-eight-nine—

_Ping!_

"For fucksake!" Lovino all but screeched, effectively scaring some customers from going even five feet _close_ to the cash and the angry Italian. He whipped out his iPhone, staring furiously at the screen.

**INCOMING TEXT: ****6134016789  
><strong>**To: 6134013427  
><strong>_Oh, that's okay! I like guys! But anyway, I'd rather not get rid of your number! You've been very entertaining so far!_

_Spain_

"That _bastard! _I'm going to have to switch numbers, aren't I?" Lovino hissed to himself, grabbing his plastic bag and stomping away from the (_dreamy_) cashier.

He didn't even catch the loud cashier's shout of "Wait! You left your bag!"

* * *

><p><em>EXIT PROLOGUE!<em> This was supposed to be a one-shot but I'm think it's more of a three-four shot. 8D MAYBE I'LL ACTUALLY KEEP UPDATING IT, YEAH?

If you have any concerns or advice, do tell. I'd really like to know if you guys like the texting format…it's pretty confusing, sorry ^^;

Sorry for the lateness in posting this. I've been rather busy and my internet connection has been failing, too. A-also…I WENT FOR AN INTERVIEW TODAY AND…AND…**I GOT A JOB! **;A; M-my very first job…o-oh, I'm so terribly nervous and excited! I-I'm at a grocery store, yayy (not. I hate grocery stores/SHOT)! I-I'm a front cashier. U-Um, how is that different from a normal cashier? I do not know. ;A; I don't start training until next week, though. *whew* Lots of time to write before I'm drowing in work. X)

OH OH OH! ANY OF YOU GUYS PLAY DEAD SPACE? NRGHH IT'S AN AWESOME GAME! I've only watched the PC LP's by mangaminx on Youtube, BUUTTTT I got the iPod Touch game app and it has twelve levels of AWESOME! I'm on level six! I'm at a zero-g area. I just took on a brute, and now I'm doing more escaping, ahahaha! If you guys have an iPhone/iPod Touch, you should definitely buy the game! It's only 2 bucks and it's really well developed for being so cheap! :D :D


	2. Reply?

**TITLE: **Incoming Text Message  
><strong>FANDOM: <strong>Hetalia  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>Spamano main. GerIta, SeyFra, FraMano (one-sided lust), and possible others.  
><strong>SUMMARY: <strong>Lovino Vargas just wanted to text his brother's new cellphone. Instead, he accidentally texts this guy named 'Spain'. What the heck? Moreover, this guy just won't stop freakin' texting Lovino!  
><strong>RATING: <strong>T  
><strong>WARNINGS: <strong>Swearing, AU, fluff, cliché-crap, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>WORD COUNT:<strong>**  
>SONG: <strong>Poker Face- _Lady Gaga_

_a/n:_ WOW! I'm so happy with the response this little fic has received! T-thank you! ;A;  
><em>an2: _…all I can say is WTF. Don't text as shamelessly as Spain does, kiddies! Texting strangers really is a no-no, and an romantic relations built off of blind-texting usually ONLY works in fanfics!

ANON REVIEWS  
><strong>Fujoshi Anonim: <strong>O-oh that's so romantic! *sparkly eyes* To say I'm surprised and envious would be an understatement, hahaha! XD Please disregard the above statement I made then, because it obviously worked splendidly for you! :D And yes, here is the update! Thank you very much for your review!

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Hetalia, Dead Space (EA), that gorgeous Marc Jacobs messenger bag, or iPhones (APPLE).

* * *

><p>"YOU WOULD MAKE A HORRIBLE SOLDIER, ISAAC, YOU WUSS!" yelled Alfred, glasses slipping down his nose as he threw his game controller in front of him, furious.<p>

Michelle snorted. "What did you expect? Did you really think you could run away from a Brute with no med packs, _and_ take on two Lurkers? You were screwed the moment you entered that room. Those necromorph babies will kill you like nobody's business."

"You didn't even use the fucking statis. You do realize if you slowed the Brute down, you could've wiped out the Lurkers and _then_ take out the Brute?" grumbled Lovino, who was situated on a comfy Lazy Boy chair. Michelle was at Lovino's feet, pressed against the chair comfortably with a bowl of chips in her lap. "You suck at this game."

"I do not! I'm great at these survival games! And I _rock_ that Pulse Rifle like no other!" Alfred huffed, chest puffing out in a manly manner. Arthur entered the living room, holding a tray of scones.

"Oh please. You may be able to, as you said, 'rock' a Pulse Rifle—but you whine like a baby when it comes to Kiku's Japanese survival horror games."

Alfred shuddered. "A-aw c'mon Iggy. You know those games are _crazy_."

"Right." said the British man, eyes rolling skyward as he sat on the large loveseat in front of where Alfred sat on the floor. He rested the tray on the coffee table, and gestured to it invitingly. "I made some scones if you all would like a bite."

Lovino cringed. Oh _hell no_. He was not eating those scones. The first time he tried one he choked and ended up in the hospital. Arthur insisted Lovino had trouble swallowing things. Michelle and Alfred knew it was those damn scones, and hadn't bothered to warn him.

And, despite popular belief, Lovino wouldn't dare tell the Brit how _bad_ those scones tasted. Because one: they're friends and well… Arthur's cooking was an extremely sensitive subject. If his cooking was insulted, he'd look like a freakin' kicked puppy and only after much coaxing he'd feel better. Two: Arthur was sometimes _scary_ when people insulted his food. Almost as crazy as the frying pan bitch from hell who lived in the same apartment complex as Lovino.

"I don't know," Michelle began. "I'm super full from all these Doritos…"

Alfred crossed his arms. "And you know I just downed an entire extra large Coke plus an entire bag of All Dressed… ugh, I would've enjoyed it more if I hadn't been being chased…"

Arthur looked at Lovino with hopeful, dark green eyes. "Lovino?"

"Uh—"

_Ping!_

Fuck.

… But, it _was_ pretty good timing. He'd have to indirectly thank the bastard later.

"What's that?" Michelle chirped, looking up at Lovino.

"My phone." Grumbled Lovino as he pulled it out of his pocket. That's right—the entire hour that Lovino had been at the American's house, _Spain would not stop texting him_.

Lovino had cussed him out, insulted him, _and_ even tried mafia-centric threats. But no; Spain would not stop. Even when Lovino made himself sound as undesirable to talk to (yes, _hard_, right? H-he was such a charmer—got him into trouble sometimes, pshhh…). So he mentioned he was having a video game marathon and Spain should promptly _stop fucking texting him._

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO VARGAS**

_So you like video games?_

_Thinking that's nerdy but cute,_

_Spain_

Lovino glared at his screen, but at this point, his infuriated mood had ebbed into exasperated annoyance. Really, it was almost like there was no fighting it anymore. It was obvious Spain wouldn't relent, and despite his teasing… No! Lovino nearly punched himself. How dare he let Spain get under his skin and make him _feel_ like texting him was _okay_, when it was definitely _not_! Just wait until he put this guy in his place…! L-later; right now he was with his friends, so…

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: THE BASTARD**

_Fuck off! It's not cute! Just let me hang out with my friends, okay? I'll yell at you later!_

_-LOVINO_

Satisfied and ignoring Michelle's curious questions and prodding, he nodded at Alfred. "You gonna keep playing or what?"

Arthur scoffed. "I think it's high time the rest of us got a turn and stopped watching this tosser get his arsed kicked."

The American raised an incredulous eyebrow. "What? The hero _always_ wins! And I'm the hero! That death was just a minor set back!"

"Pfft, like that counts in real life." Lovino said, not without fondness. Michelle giggled at their antics.

"Right! Pass that controller over—I'll show you how this game is done." Arthur said, hand held out expectantly.

Alfred held the controller to his chest like it was the last drop of water in the desert. "No way! I'm going to keep going 'til I win!" he protested.

_Ping_.

"Lovi! Tell me who it is!" Michelle said, tugging at Lovino's pants.

Lovino ignored her (plus that horrible pet name) and promptly flicked the lock button, interested—NO! _Infuriated_ in seeing what Spain wrote back, even though Lovino told him _not_ to text back at this very moment!

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
>TO: LOVINO VARGAS<strong>

_You're with your friends? Sorry!_

_Hm~ you'll talk to me later, huh? I'm glad we're texting buddies now! :D Maybe in the future I'll be the one playing video games with you, si? ;)_

_Happy,_

_Spain_

"He has no shame." Lovino muttered, beginning to type a reply (n-not that he cared if the bastard got his reply), but was stopped by a tanned, very much female hand.

"What's _this_?" Michelle dragged out, reading all the texts between Spain and himself. "Holy mackerel, are you _sexting_ someone?" She winked at the shocked Italian. "Just kidding! You're too much of a prude! Looks like you're dating him, though! What's his name? Spain? Is that his nickname or something? Like how Ludwig and Gilbert call each other East and West?"

Alfred, who was bickering with Arthur, stopped immediately and his head whipped to the side to look Lovino. "_What_?"

Lovino put his hands up, shaking his head from side to side quickly. "No! _Hell_ no! T-this guy just keeps texting me and—"

"I can't believe your sexting!" cried Alfred.

"You're kidding, right?" Lovino said, pale as a sheet. "Out of _everything_ Michelle said, _that's_ what you picked up?"

The American was frowning. "We're supposed to BFFWBOTS! Why wouldn't you tell me if you were getting some!" Lovino looked absolutely _horrified_ at this.

"No! He's fucking _cyber stalking_ me! If you'd just listen—"

"Lovino, as your friends, you know we're _here_ for you." Arthur said, sternly. "We can get you dating pamphlets, if you would like."

"Wait, you mean like those 69 pamphlets Francis gave me?" Alfred asked. Arthur looked appalled and Michelle giggled.

"How about we call Spain up and ask for his opinion?" smiled Michelle.

That was the last straw. At this point, Lovino's face was bursting with colour; a vibrant, signature tomato red. He snatched his iPhone out of Michelle's hands and stomped out of his friend's house, ignoring their calls as he rushed away.

S-screw his friends for thinking he was _in a relationship_ with this texting _loser_! Once his friends started getting over imaginative, they wouldn't freakin' stop! He'd just go home, finish his art project, and sleep off his anger! O-or text Spain and make the guy cry!

… It wasn't until he was half a block to his apartment when he realized, _where the _hell_ is my Marc Jacobs bag_?—which contained his very much needed, _very much due in two days_ Art History assignment.

… Plus he paid a _fortune _for that bag, and so help him _God_ if he did not find it.

* * *

><p>"Antonio, hon, you're so dazed. You must be in love." Femke stated. Francis, who was sitting at her side and sipping at a decaf mocha latte, nearly choked.<p>

"_Mon ami_, is this true?" the French man's eyes sparkled with interest. "_Mon dieu! _The day has finally come! _Il a efin tombre en amour!_"

"Pfft, Antonio isn't unawesome like that. We're the Bad Touch Trio. We touch and touch and don't stop for love!"

"Is that supposed to be a slogan?" Femke laughed. "Because it wasn't too good."

Antonio, who was staring at his phone in one hand and the messenger bag in his lap, looked up at his three friends. "Love?"

All four friends were sitting at a partially concealed booth in a small, family owned café. Antonio had gotten off his job an hour ago, and his friends had been on their breaks. They texted and decided to meet up, but everyone, apart from Antonio, had been surprised to see how distracted (well, more distracted than _usual_) the Spanish man was.

"You've been texting non-stop. Not to mention, you've got a Marc Jacobs messenger bag." Antonio stared blankly at Femke. What did that have to do with anything?

As if sensing his question, she rolled her eyes while her signature cat like smirk popped up on her rounded face. "Puh-_lease_. You're not a fashion label whore. You can barely dress yourself in the morning without mismatching you socks! As if you would spend the money or even go into a _store_, let alone online, to get that bag."

Francis began to make incoherent excited sounds. Gilbert was looking more and more aghast by the minute.

Antonio was _really_ confused.

"Tell it to us straight, Toni! Who's the boy-toy who bought you that man-purse?" the blonde woman squealed, hands clasping together.

Antonio quirked a brow, looking completely confused. His friends were _really_ making no sense. "This bag? A customer left it at my work and I thought I'd return it to him."

Femke and Francis looked downcast at this. Gilbert nodded. "Awesome! Returning someone's bag like a hero! People totally get rewards for that, man!"

"Rewards?" Antonio looked at the bag and grinned widely. The guy who left it was _so_ much like a tomato! Rewards? _No no no_. He wanted to see that feisty customer again. "The customer was getting really angry and red in the face like a tomato—and it was _so_ cute—so I thought, if I returned this, maybe he'd be really happy and look like a tomato, _si_?"

Femke blinked. "So… you're using the bag as an excuse to see him again?"

"Yes?" Didn't he make that clear? Oh well. Antonio sipped at his milk shake, staring at his phone, _waiting _for his funny Lovi's text.

That's _right_. He's talked to _two_ feisty people today. There's the one who accidentally texted him (gosh, he wished he could actually _talk _to him—the poor man got frustrated so easily, it seemed!) and the rather handsome customer from his earlier shift.

"Eeee!" Femke squirmed in her seat excitedly. "So maybe on your shift tomorrow you'll see him! Ah! But that doesn't explain all the texting!"

Antonio smiled joyfully. "Oh, I forgot to tell you about Lovi! Well—"

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**To: THE BASTARD**

_We're not texting buddies! And I lost my bag, thanks to you! You keep texting and distracting me! Leave me alone already, goddamnit!_

_-LOVINO_

"He texted back!" Antonio sighed happily, turning his phone on its side and sliding it open, eagerly texting back a reply. Femke stared in awe.

"Ohmygod you totally are dating someone!" she squeaked.

Francis had managed to snag Antonio's bag, and successfully took out the wallet inside. He pulled out the driver's license within and whistled appreciatively, a blonde eyebrow quirking up. "Oh, _oui, _he's certainly some eye candy. Is he Italian? His name looks like it… Toni, if you don't want him, _I'll_ take him."

Antonio, who had hurried replied with a _"I'm so sorry! Funny thing, someone left bag behind at my work, hahaha! I hope you do find it though, Lovi."_, gasped excitedly and ignored Francis' question. "You're allowed to look in someone's bag? Oh, let me see his ID! I need his address so I can give it back to him!"

Francis passed it over the same time Gilbert's jaw dropped in surprise. Antonio stared at the ID, smiling widely.

Yup, this certainly belonged to that feisty customer! The same, well kept and groomed, dark chestnut hair and meant-to-be-intimidating brown eyes. He was expressionless in this picture for obvious reasons, but Antonio couldn't help but grin widely at the thought of the guy's cheeks turning a deep, tomato red and puffing out adorably. Antonio was pretty sure he didn't even _know_ he was doing that. Antonio's eyes flickered to the name.

_Lovino Vargas_.

Hm, Gilbert was right. It did sound Italian. … Antonio grinned again. He was _cute_.

"He's my brother's boyfriend's brother!" Gilbert said, staring at the ID like it was on fire. "He's a _handful_. And _that's _coming from the awesome me!" Gilbert grimaced. "Look, if you're planning on… _dating_ him, be careful, bro. He needs anger management, I swear."

"_Non non!_" Francis said, suddenly yanking the ID out of Antonio's hands. Antonio looked up, surprised. "_I'll_ take him off your hands. Someone as bright and energetic as _you_ shouldn't have to waste your time with someone negative, _oui_?" The French man began to give his signature "Ohhon_hon_~" chuckle, but a dark, slightly _crazed_ laughter sounded and Francis froze.

Femke rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. Gilbert tensed.

"Ahaha_ha_! Franny, you're _too kind_, but, _I'll_ be the only one courting him since _I_ have his bag and _I _saw him first." Antonio laughed. Then his green eyes narrowed. "Unless you have a problem with that?"

Francis hurriedly passed back the ID.

Antonio smiled thinly, stood up, and saluted his friends. "Well, I better get going to his apartment if I want to return this. I'll text you all later~!"

"Go get him, you crazy bastard!" Gilbert cheered. Femke 'whooped' and gave a small fist pump, while Francis was still quivering in his seat.

As Antonio left the shop, his phone ping'd.

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: THE BASTARD**

_Wait, someone left a bag at your work? Freakin' creepy coincidence._

_-LOVINO_

Antonio paused in his walking, staring at his phone.

Wow, that _was_ weird. (Plus, wasn't the customer's name Lovino, too?) Shrugging, Antonio read the address off the ID and happily hailed down a taxi.

* * *

><p>"Fuckfuck<em>fuck<em>!" Lovino hissed, kicking the papers on his floor. He just got home and was figuring out what he should do, since, you know, he _lost his very expensive baby with his very important homework assignment inside!_

And it wasn't helping that Spain was getting creepier and creepier _by the second_. Not the in "I-going-to-kill-you" way, though. More of the "we-might-actually-meet" kind of way.

Lovino wasn't stupid. This guy he was texting was obviously closer in his area than he originally thought—close enough to be working at that convenience store. His bag? Yeah, Spain must have seen it. That convenience store? Lots of obese, depressed, and pimply teens and adults alike worked there. Perhaps the only one worth noticing was that Spanish guy, but Lovino had _never_ seen that guy working there before. Well, it wasn't like Lovino went there _often_, but, _still_. He would've noticed such a hot—er, _l-lazy_ cashier, right?

Lovino crossed his arms, eyes narrowing in concentration. Spain was probably one of the pimply employees there. Maybe if he retrieved his bag, he could finally confront that fucker and tell him to stop texting him!

The Italian nodded at his plan, toeing his shoes on and grabbing his phone. Lovino grabbed the door knob and undid the chain lock with his other hand, pulling it open and stopping short as he saw someone standing there, fist raised and ready to knock.

Lovino's mouth went agape, eyes widening. _The cashier_.

He stood at the doorway, tall and not slouched. His brown hair was _still_ unruly with curls, but his skin looked less tanned in the darkness of the hallway. His eyes were nervous, but his smile was wide and pearly white.

"Lovino Vargas, right?" he asked, which came out as more of a statement than a question. When Lovino didn't say anything, he held up the messenger bag. "You left this behind."

Lovino made a grab for it, but the Spaniard held it away. Furious, Lovino glared at him. "_Bastardo!_ Give me my bag back!"

"I will, but, I need an excuse to see you again, _si_?"

"W-wait." Lovino stumbled over his words, his chest feeling like it was tightening and his face beginning to burn. "_What_?" It didn't help that the cashier was smiling even brighter. He muttered a brief "C-_cute_" (which had Lovino cursing and spluttering; _embarrassed _and shocked), before he coughed awkwardly and spoke more prominently.

"I'll give you your bag back if you go grab a coffee with me." he said, not unkindly.

Who did this _good-looking _guy think he was? Like _hell_ Lovino was going to go and buy coffee with this guy—

"My friends said this is a very expensive bag." The Italian looked worried and _furious_ at this point. Was this cashier going to _burn_ his bag if he didn't hang out with him?

"You better not think of taking it!"

"Taking it…?" The guy looked surprised, emerald eyes widening. Then he began to laugh. "Ahahaha! That sounded pretty villainous, I suppose!" The Spaniard handed the bag over to Lovino, who clutched it tightly. "No, what I meant was…" He scuffed his foot against the floor, almost looking… _bashful_. "Since I returned something so precious, maybe you wouldn't mind _rewarding _me by going to get some coffee?"

… Lovino _stared_. Was… was this guy _serious_? He was about to reject the offer, the _only_ way he knew how to handle the situation, when the cashier put his hand up to stop Lovino.

"The coffee will be on me?"

He looked _so_ hopeful. Too bad Lovino was going to say _no._ No no _no_.

"… S-sure." he choked out, looking to the side and trying to fight off his blush.

"O-oh!" He sounded surprised. "This is great!" He suddenly thrust his hand out, "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!"

He was _smiling so brightly_. Lovino cursed out loud, confusing the cashier—no; _Antonio_. Lovino was not going to be able to t-turn _down_ this guy. Ever.

U-ugh.

… D-damn it _all _to hell.

* * *

><p>WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I'M WRITING LOVINO HORRIBLY? PFFT. ANY POINTERS, GUYS? PLEASE? I FEEL LIKE HE ISN'T NEARLY AS SNARKY OR PISSY AS HE SHOULD BE. ;A;<p>

NOTES:

-BFFWBOTS: Best Friends Forever With Burgers On The Side

_-These guys are in college_. Lovino lives with his brother, but Feli usually hangs out at Ludwig's apartment. Gilbert lives with Antonio, Francis by himself (… for obvious, X-rated reasons), Femke by herself, Michelle mooches off people (but pays them back eventually—she's currently living with Francis), Alfred lives with Kiku, and Arthur lives by himself. Everyone else you can guess what they do. Because I have NO idea. (More focus on what Antonio and Lovino are studying chapter 3).

TRANSLATIONS  
>si- yes<br>mon ami- my friend  
>mon dieu- my god<br>oui- yes  
>il a efin tombre en amour- he has fallen in love<br>non- no  
>bastardo- bastard<p>

Thanks for reading the latest chapter!

JANKZ


	3. Sent!

**TITLE: **Incoming Text Message  
><strong>FANDOM: <strong>Hetalia  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>SPAMANO. GERITA, SEYFRA, AMERIMANO (past), and possible others.  
><strong>SUMMARY: <strong>Lovino Vargas just wanted to text his brother's new cellphone. Instead, he accidentally texts this guy named 'Spain'. What the heck? Moreover, this guy just won't stop freakin' texting Lovino!  
><strong>RATING: <strong>T  
><strong>WARNINGS: <strong>Swearing, AU, fluff, cliché-crap, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>WORD COUNT: <strong>2207**  
>SONG: <strong>Undisclosed Desires- _Muse_

_a/n:_ Guys, stop. Seriously. Stop. Stop being so **damn wonderful**. I'm breaking out with cavities from your sweetness, and my dentist totally hates you guys right now. Plus my jaw is aching from smiling. Geez. You guys totally know how to butter people up. ;A;  
><em>an2:_ OKAY! So thanks to **rainbow world**, they found a very big, very _glaringly_ obvious **plot!hole** in this story. You can find the notes on these plot!holes at the bottom of this chapter. P.S: All stores/diners I mention are FAKE.  
><em>an3: _I know I told some of you guys you'd be surprised with this chapter. **WELL I CUT THE SURPRISE OFF**. I sort of ended this chapter on a fail!cliff hanger, only because it was getting choppy and wasn't flowing. Sorry to disappoint those I told about the 'surprise'. That will _for sure_ be in the next chapter.

ANON REVIEWS  
><strong>Fujoshi Anonim: <strong>Heh, I hope you're surprised with the development in this chapter. :D And once again: D'AWWWW! Adorable creepy nostalgia, ftw! X)  
><strong>Treegone: <strong>I… I sort of love you right now. ;A; My idea is similar to that, but Spain doesn't know it's Lovi and vice versa. X) I've already decided who figures it out, when it happens, etc. B-but your ideas are VERY inspiring, and have _definitely _influenced this chapter. I HOPE YOU'RE PLEASED. Thank you very much, and I hope you'll stick around! *gives cookies*

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Hetalia (HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA), Messenger Bag (MARC JACOB), and iPhones (APPLE).

* * *

><p>Right after Lovino gained his senses, he stuttered out his own name, pushed Antonio's hand away while saying "okay now get the <em>fuck<em> away from my door!", and slammed said chunky door in the Spaniard's face. He had basically all but forgotten a) Antonio already knew his name and b) well, he sort of needed a phone number.

But, apparently Antonio didn't think so. When Lovino peeked outside his door (when Antonio stopped saying "please open up, Lovi!" and Lovino stopped telling him to "stop calling me that, _bastardo_!"), Antonio was gone, and there was a post-it note carefully applied below the brass numbers on Lovino's rickety apartment door.

**Meet me at White Eyes, Friday 8pm? :D**

**-Antonio**

Lovino stared at the post-it note for a long time before he crumpled it up, tossed it in the wastebasket by his door, and pulled out his iPhone. He entered the date and time on his calendar, a frown on his face.

He really wasn't used to this. Yes, he flirted shamelessly with girls just like his younger brother, but that was more of a… _hobby_, as horrible as it sounds. He was good at it, it was fun, and girls giggling and smiling was _cute_. But romantic wise… Lovino was neutral when it came to gender (no Germans, though. Those potato sucking bastards can go back to Germany, damn it!). He hadn't been on a proper date since… _middle school_. And that was with _Alfred_, when they were both confused as _fuck_ with their feelings.

Lovino put a hand to his cheek, _mortified _as he felt the heat radiating off of it. Was he _still_ red? Ugh, he cursed his family for his blushing problem. They all got so rosy, _so_ easily. But Lovino's was the worst. Damn hereditary genes.

The Italian flopped onto his couch, signature flyaway curl bouncing with the movement. He pulled out his assignment from the bag, ready to finish it and get on with his life.

_Ping_.

Or not.

Okay, so that was Spain. Should he reply? Should he ignore? His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, making him to hold up his iPhone, swipe the lock pad, and stare at the text. _That's right_. He changed Spain's caller ID name to Spain instead of _The Bastard_. Humph. W-whatever; that didn't mean anything. Lovino just needed clarification, that's all. He knew a lot of bastards, so putting a name to Spain didn't matter. Nope. He didn't think they were texting friends. Nope. Nope nope _mother freakin'_ nope.

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
>TO: LOVINO<strong>

_Did you find your bag, amigo?_

_Spain_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~**

**TO: SPAIN**

_Yeah, some guy brought it over._

_-LOVINO_

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
>TO: LOVINO<strong>

_Great! I'm so glad you found it! I'm sorry I made you lose it in the first place!_

Lovino raised a brow. What the heck, the bastard-creep really cared? He texted back.

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~**

**TO: SPAIN**

_Shut up, it was my fault. Don't get all whiny and shit. _

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
>TO: LOVINO<strong>

_Yes! So, amigo, how are you?_

Lovino didn't know what happened. Suddenly he was texting back and forth and spilling details (but not too many) about… _his feelings _about friends and school; he was more than a little surprised and _scared _about how open he was being. But, Spain was so coaxing and strangely… _persuasive_. It was like Lovino could talk to the phone creep and have no obligations; this guy would never meet him and vice versa (despite his earlier doubts, concerning his bag). It was almost like Spain could be… a safe zone.

It wasn't until midnight—_just_ as he finished complaining about his professor who made them sing when tardy or unruly—when Lovino finally told Spain to stop fucking texting him so he could sleep.

* * *

><p>"Ve~! Fratello! I'm home!" chirped Feliciano, tip-toeing into their house, keys jingling in his hands. He had spent the week at Ludwig's all week, and decided to come home. As soon as toed off his shoes and rested his keys down, Feliciano tripped over two pairs of shoes and a ratty old sweater. He looked at the ground and saw… <em>a trail<em> of clothing. Feliciano cutely tilted his head to the side. Why were there clothes and shoes lying around—?

"Hooolyy crap! You're so _gay_. Want me to sing you Katy Perry's song?"

"Alfred, _shut the hell up_. You're just as gay."

"Nu-_uh_. You got all this clothing-brand name… stuff. Dude, what the heck is Ralph Lauren? And G-Star? Sounds like G-string! I'm so confused!"

"Get your greasy burger hands _off_ that denim. I will _castrate_ you if you get food on these clothes."

"We all know that's inevitable. You bought me five burgers."

"You need to tell me how I look for tomorrow, dumbass! And did you recently acquire a dictionary or something?"

Feliciano stepped into Lovino's room, gasping as he saw piles upon piles of Lovino's clothing. Alfred was flopped on top of Lovino's bed, burger wrappers beside him. Lovino was in front of the American, arms across his chest and frowning deeply.

"Fratello, what are you doing?" Feliciano asked.

Lovino turned quickly, looking surprised. "C-_chigi!_"

Alfred waved hello, snickering slightly from the sound Lovino all but yelped. "Hey Feli! Your brother is trying on clothes for his date tomorrow night. He's Spanish or something—" Lovino threw a book at his head, promptly shutting the American up.

"Fuck you! It's not a date!"

Feliciano gasped, hands slapping against his mouth and cheeks pinking. "Ve~ you have a date? That's so amazing!"

"It's not a date!" his older Italian brother hissed, glaring at Feliciano. Feliciano was unaffected; too busy 'ooh'ing and 'ah'ing about the prospect of his older brother going on a date. Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'm getting coffee with the bastard who found my bag. He called it a reward."

"You lost a bag? Which one?" Feli asked, sitting on the bed by Alfred's feet. Alfred sighed.

"You know—that bag he protects like it's his baby."

"_Alfred_."

Feliciano giggled into his palm, smiling ear to ear. "Oh, _fratello_, looks like your bag helped you find some romance!" He wiggled excitedly, feet kicking up and a huge grin on his face. Feliciano _loved_ playing matchmaker, and the idea of helping his brother for a _date_ was making him super happy!

Alfred suddenly snorted and said: "Your bag _bagged_ you a date." He puffed out his chest proudly at his joke, laughing boisterously. "Man, the hero _always_ tells good jokes!"

Apparently Lovino didn't think so, since Alfred was hit with another inanimate projectile. Lovino didn't care for the whining Alfred started, and simply began pulling shirts off the ground, inspecting them with a critical eye.

"You're over thinking this, fratello. I thought you said you were just getting coffee with him?" the younger Italian brother said, coming off the bed with a bounce in his step. There was a teasing tone in Feliciano's voice and Lovino raised an eyebrow, hand on his hip.

"What? No way." he grumbled. Feliciano pointed to the clothing on the ground, and Lovino blushed, scowling deeply. "S-_shut up,_ damn it!"

"I'm sure if he asked big brother for coffee, he'll like whatever you wear." Before Lovino could protest more, Feliciano scooped up an article of clothing. "Here, you always look nice in this." He gently placed it in Lovino's hands, and Lovino, despite his grumbling, nodded in approval.

It was a modern, geometric patterned jumper. It had a slouch cowl neck, the fabric soft and cozy to the touch. Lovino shuffled awkwardly as his brother smiled at him, proud of himself for picking out a shirt for Lovino's not-a-date date.

"T-…thanks." Lovino said, genuinely. As much as there was a lot of hurt being around his younger brother because of all the attention he received, there were those brotherly moments he appreciated. As Lovino gave a shaky smile, Alfred made gagging noises from his spot.

"You guys are _way_ too mushy!"

Feliciano giggled while Lovino looked like he was going to _choke_ Alfred. He stopped, mid-step to choke Alfred, when the American smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

"But you're going to look awesome." Lovino faltered as Alfred got off the bed, picked up some pants, and threw them in his face. "Just wear whatever. You'll look good, man.

Lovino held the jumper and the pants, staring at his smiling best friend and his grinning brother for a long moment. Then he broke out in a flustered blush, unused to the situation. "S-shut up. J…just help me find some shoes."`

* * *

><p>Later that same day, Lovino had handed in his paper to his art history teacher, apprehensive and more than a little frightened by the way his teacher glared, snapped about how he was a day late, but then proceeded to praise Lovino about his opening statement.<p>

_Fuck_, all his teachers were _insane_.

Needing to drown himself in the fattiest food possible, he took a bus to the local diner by Alfred's neighbour hood. As stupid as he felt about entering that 70's restaurant, it was safe and welcoming.

The metal door jingled as he opened it, it usual chime when customers entered. The place wasn't too crowded; just a few families in the back booths. A blonde came over, eyes wide and smile getting _way _too sinister for his liking.

"Why _hello_ there." she grinned. "Welcome to Casey's Stop In And Dine. Would you like a booth, table, or bar seat?"

"Booth." He mumbled, beginning to sweat as she stared at him _way_ too long. Usually he'd be flirting but…this girl was _really_ starting to creep him out. Sort of like the Hungarian bitch from hell. She led him to the back booths, watching him as he scooted into the seat. Suddenly she blurted, "Are you Lovino Vargas?"

He frowned. "W-what's it to you?" Shit, that better not have came out as squeaky as he thought it did!

She seemed ot be trembling with excitement, suddenly squealing. "Ohgosh_ohgosh_! Hi!" she thrust out her hand. "I'm Femke, but my friends joke and call me Belgium!"

Lovino shook her hand, confused as _hell._ "Yeah, I'm Lovino. How do you know?"

"Oh!" she took her hand away and giggled. "I'm Toni's friend. He was talking about you all morning!"

"Toni…as in Antonio?" Lovino asked, confused.

"Yup! Golly, you're _adorable_!"

"W-what?" Lovino flushed deeply and shook his head. "I am _not_ adorable!" Fuck no! He was _manly_! The manliest man of them all!

"You _do_ look like a tomato!" she squee'd. Lovino looked positively _mortified_ at this point. He looked like a _tomato_? What the _hell_? Femke gave him his menu, winking. "Order whatever you want, it's on me. As Antonio's boytoy, I'll give you free burgers."

"B-boy toy?" he spluttered. He didn't get a chance to ask as she skipped away. He glared at his menu, already knowing his order.

When Femke came back, he told her he wasn't ready. She shrugged, and told him she'd be back in a few minutes.

Lovino squirmed uncomfortably—the only reason he told her he wasn't ready was because he was too busy thinking about how that stupid Spaniard was actually _talking_ about _him_ to his friends.

He sighed, running both hands through his hair.

This was turning out to be a _weird_ week.

* * *

><p><strong>INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~<br>****TO: SPAIN**

_Wait, so you grew up on a farm?_

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_Yup! We had fields of tomatoes and mi __papá__ had a chicken coop. Mi __mamá made our clothes and I helped her cook. We were really self-sufficient in Spain. Now I'm really lazy since I'm moved to Canada. :P_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_You hick. _

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_Haha, I guess that does make me a bit of a farm boy, right~?_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~**

**TO: SPAIN**

_You bet your ass it does. Anyway, don't text me tomorrow night. Or I'll kill you._

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_Oh~ are you playing video games with your friends again? ;)_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_No. I'm meeting up with someone. _

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_You mean like a date? :D_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_No! It's not! I'm just getting coffee!_

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_;D_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_STFU, SPAIN!_

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_Wait, what? _

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_You don't know what that means?_

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_No…?_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_Never mind. For a texting-creep who texts back innocent callers, you sure don't know your abbreviations. _

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_Ah, so it was an abbreviation. And Lovi, I don't do this with everyone. Only you, Lovi~ _

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_Stop flirting or I'll sick the Italian mafia on you. _

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_In Canada?_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_I have connections, bastardo._

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN  
><strong>**TO: LOVINO**

_I'll keep that in mind. Well mi amigo, I've got to get to work. I'll text you tomorrow-but-not-at-night? :D_

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovi~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_Like I give a shit if you text me back…_

_But if you do, do it before 8:30. Humph._

* * *

><p>I'm such a <em>cow<em>. I'm making you all wait for the coffee date. I thought I should give some insight on Feli and Lovi's relationship (I stuck Alfred in cuz damn, I love him _so!_) and Toni's and Lovi's meaningless, yet quite personal-in-their-own-way conversations through texts. (THIS TAKES PLACE IN CANADA BECAUSE I'M A BOSS LIKE THAT)

P-please don't shoot me. ;A; I've got the beginning of their coffee date written, I'm just working on making it actually _good_. Because, I've never been on a date and I seriously don't know how they work. You can thank television, movies, music, and fanfics for my knowledge. :'D

NOTES:

First: How come Lovino knows Francis, but Francis didn't know him? I HONESTLY FORGOT ABOUT LOVINO THINKING ABOUT SEYFRA. FFF-/SHOT So let's say this: **Lovino has heard about Francis and because of so many opinions about the man, he dislikes him. He's never actually met/seen Francis. Francis has never been told about Lovino because: do you really think when Michelle and Francis are living together, they're talking about **_**anything**_** about her friends? PFFT. They're FWB (friends with benefits).**

Second: How did Lovino know Femke (Belgium), but she didn't know him? TOTALLY FORGOT I MADE HER A WAITRESS AT THAT DINNER. SHIII-/DOUBLETAP So let's say this: **Lovino recognized her because she works there only some shifts, but he wasn't too sure because he doesn't go for burgers often. Femke doesn't recognize him because, duh, she's a waitress and doesn't get many shifts at the dinner (she works two jobs, ahahaha/SHOT), so she doesn't notice Lovino because A) he does not go there often and B) There are other people she'd be paying attention to. **

Haha. I suck. ;A; THANK YOU, KIND REVIEWER. I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL.

TRANSLATIONS:

Bastardo- _bastard  
><em>Amigo- _friend  
><em>Fratello- _brother  
><em>Mi- my  
>Papá- <em>dad<em>_  
><em>Mamá- _mom  
><em>STFU- _shut the fuck up_

-JANKZ


	4. Unable To Send Message

**TITLE: **Incoming Text Message

**FANDOM: **Hetalia  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>SPAMANO. GERITA, SEYFRA, AMERIMANO (past), and possible others.  
><strong>SUMMARY: <strong>Lovino Vargas just wanted to text his brother's new cellphone. Instead, he accidentally texts this guy named 'Spain'. What the heck? Moreover, this guy just won't stop freakin' texting Lovino!  
><strong>RATING: <strong>T  
><strong>WARNINGS: <strong>Swearing, AU, fluff, cliché-crap, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>WORD COUNT:<br>SONG: **It's Not Unusual- Blaine Anderson (Darren Criss) version; Glee season 3

_a/n1:_ if there are any gleeks out there reviewing and/or reading... I love Tumblr. So many funny people and glee spoilers. :'D I have season 3's five new songs and the first episode isn't even out yet.  
><em>an2: _OKAY SO NO EXCUSES. Basically, I started procrastinating and then my mom got sick. She'd been "sick" for awhile and she got sicker around my birthday. Our Toronto trip was cancelled and on my birthday, my mother spent most of it in the hospital. My step-dad, however, went to many lengths. He talked to me and comforted me, something he hasn't done since I was a young child. He went around buying food for my day and asking me what I wanted, and even helped me plan a party. This chapter is dedicated to him and his unconditional, yet mostly apathetic, love for me and my siblings. I wish one day I could call him Dad properly, he deserves that and so much fucking more.  
><em>an3: _Aside from that whirlwind, I also got sucked into Tumblr and then work. I still got my job (still on 3-month probation though, with an orientation tomorrow LOL), and now that I'm in school writing is a bit tough (when it's not for my two English classes, that is :'D). My next update will probably take awhile, but feel free to talk to me, ask me questions, and even drop suggestions in my Tumblr or Formspring.  
><em>an4: _How would you guys feel if I changed my name to bowlerhatfringe? :)

**bowlerhatfringe[DOT]tumblr[DOT]com**  
><strong>formspring[DOT]me[SLASH]bowlerhatfringe<strong>

OH GUYS GUYS I HAVE _AMAZING_**_ FANART! _***SOBBBB* Thank you to** methodtothismadness **for some beautiful, _adorable_ fanart:

**http:[DOUBLE SLASH]maplesyrupandhotchocolate[DOT]tumblr[DOT]com[SLASH]post[SLASH]9208703843[SLASH]incoming-text-fanart**

GO CHECK IT OUT. IT'S FUCKING BEAUTIFUL.

_Also_, on my Tumblr (which I forgot to post askhajhkakad;sl;als) is a post of the clothes Spain and Romano were wearing on the date (the slouch cowl neck on Lovi, lol). Here:

**http:[DOUBLESLASH]bowlerhatfringe[DOT]tumblr[DOT]com[SLASH]post[SLASH]10625448181[SLASH]threads-on-a-date-incoming-text-crap**

TO ALL ANON AND NON-ANON REVIWERS:

**Sorry if I have not replied! But I have read them all and they make me wanna cry because you guys are too nice to me! ;A; If anyone is still around reading this piece of crap, thank you!**

**...LOL. LONG AUTHOR NOTE IS LONG.**

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Hetalia (HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA), Messenger Bag (MARC JACOB), and iPhones (APPLE).

* * *

><p>Lovino stood in front of White Eyes, nervously looking at the door as if it were going to suddenly swing out and reveal Antonio. Damn, why was he so nervous? Just because it was a first date—<em>reward<em> (it wasn't a date! _It wasn't_!) doesn't mean he should be like a stupid little school girl. His pocket buzzed suddenly, and he jumped.

**INCOMING TEXT: SPAIN**

**TO: LOVINO**

_Good luck with your date tonight! I'm sure you'll hit it off great!_

_-Spain ;D_

Lovino squirmed, feeling some confidence restored. Damn Spain and his encouraging texts!

Last night after Alfred left and Feliciano crashed on the couch, Lovino had literally started panicking. What if Antonio judged him like everyone else in his life? What if Antonio bailed and asked for a money reward instead? What if Antonio called him ridiculous, foul, and _uncute_ like everyone? Needless to say, Lovino was pacing in his room, biting his nails and stomping his feet. However, Spain suddenly texted him and asked how he was doing.

And of course, that broke the string in Lovino's emotional restraint.

The Italian proceeded to text him about his fears for the date—_reward_. He told him how nervous he was feeling, told him how he was sure he was going to throw up, and told him to _stop texting him back saying "BUYOOOHHH SO CUTTEEE"_. Eventually Spain knocked it the fuck off, texting Lovino a more serious response.

"_They would be crazy not to like you. From what I've read, you're a fantastic sounding person! And if they don't like you, it's their loss. You're a wonderful person. :)"_

And of course Lovino promptly burst into tears and texted him to _shut the fuck up and stop saying things like that, damn it_.

Spain just texted back a semicolon and a capital D.

After his emotionally relieving conversation with Spain, Lovino felt more prepared than before. He felt stable; _level_.

… It was odd to have someone so close and comforting but be complete strangers at the same time.

Back to the present, Lovino shoved his iPhone back into his pocket and he tightened his grip around the strap of his messenger bag; the one that got him into this mess. With a deep shuddering breath he pulled the door open by its rusty handle.

Bells chimed to signal his arrival and a lady up front smiled at him welcomingly. Lovino nodded in greeting, taking note of the dimmed down lights and the over all atmosphere. It was chilled, relaxed; it was like one of those underground poetry clubs. Except, less doom and gloom (what? He's allowed to stereotype!) and more happy and sunshine and shit.

In one corner of the café was a sitting area which included a large dark brown and polished coffee table, surrounded by orange and purple sofas. Abstract and vibrantly coloured paintings were placed haphazardly and randomly against the chocolate brown walls and when Lovino looked up for the briefest moment, he saw that the ceiling was _made of mirrors_.

Wow.

He turned on to the heel of his foot to look at the main sitting area where lots of round, two-person tables and chairs lay while against the walls were retro looking booths. There were already quite a few people here and Lovino wondered if he would even be able to find the Spanish cashier—

"Lovi~!" a voice chimed, and the Italian cringed. Antonio found him. Lovino located where the voice was coming from and saw Antonio in a booth, waving merrily at him with a huge grin on his face. Awkwardly, Lovino made his way over and sat down.

"Bastard." He mumbled, arms crossing against his chest.

Lovino looked up from his lap, surprised to see Antonio biting his lip harshly as if to contain an outburst. _Of glee_. Abruptly, Antonio coughed and seemed to calm down, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"I'm so glad you came!" he said, and Lovino raised a brow as the Spaniard shoved a cellphone into his pocket.

"W-well I wouldn't _not_ show up. It's your reward and stuff…" he mumbled, cheeks flushing. That sounded so weird. It was like they were in a freaky BDSM relationship or something—

"Lovino." Said Italian looked right at Antonio, surprised at the more serious tone. Antonio smiled softly his hand coming over the table and resting by Lovino, opened expectantly. "I _really_ am glad you came. I thought you wouldn't, to be honest. You don't even know me."

"… you didn't know me but your returned my bag." Lovino countered, staring at Antonio's hand. _Did he want me to hold it? Isn't that a bit too soon? But it does look like it would feel nice…wait, no! Fucking shit! He's trying to trick me! _Antonio just laughed, breaking Lovino out of his thoughts. Lovino watched with a strange sort of longing as Antonio retracted his hand, placing it to his side once more.

"Touché, Lovi~." He winked, causing Lovino to blush profusely. Stupid bastard and his stupid winking, damn it. "Ah, I order some crepes and coffee. Is that alright?"

"Yeah, I like crepes." Lovino shrugged, not caring too much. He was actually pondering how this was going to work. He could see it now: an akward conversation, and awkward silence, and Antonio awkwardly coming up with an excuse to leave.

But instead of an awkward conversation, Antonio said:

"Hey! While we wait, let's play twenty questions!" he smiled like a child.

Lovino stuttered, "W-what?"

"So I can get to know you and you can get to know me! All I know about you is your name, your bag, and how cute you are!" he cooed, sending another flirtasous wink Lovino's way. Lovino stuttered some expletives, refusing to look at Antonio in fear of totally and utterly swooning—h-he meant strangling him,_ duh_.

"… I-I'll go first." he managed. Drumming his fingers against the table, he came up with a generic question. "How old are you?" Lovino asked. Antonio looked young, around Lovino's age, perhaps, but you could never tell these days with everyone being so tall…

"Twenty-six!" Antonio beamed. Lovino felt his jaw drop, eyes bulging.

"T-twenty-_six_?"

"I just said that?" Antonio chuckled.

"You're bullshiting me." Deadpanned Lovino. "You're not twenty-six. There's no way! You look younger!"

"But I am! I'll even show you my drivers license!"

"P-put your wallet away! I believe you!" Lovino stuttered, waving his hands a bit frantically. Antonio let out another warm laugh, shaking his head softly.

"Ah, you're too cute." Lovino flushed at this, glaring hasrshly at the table. Antonio took it as his queue to ask his question. "How old are _you_?"

"Twenty-three." Lovino answered with a scowl. It bugged him that he was younger than Antonio—albeit it wasn't a very large age gap.

"Ahh! No way! I thought you were barely legal, ahahaha~!"

"What? Then why would you ask me on a date!" hissed Lovino.

Antonio held two fingers up, winking. "That counts as question number two!" Lovino made a sound that Antonio could only describe as an angry, screeching cat. "And in answer to your question, I needed to take a chance. What if I missed out on something extraordinary by _not_ asking?" The Spaniard's grin softened into a smile, his emerald eyes boring into Lovino's brown ones. Time froze in the most cliché way possible and Lovino sucked in a deep breath.

Wow. _Wow._ The Italian blinked a few times, his heart pounding in his chest. W-was this guy some sort of stupid _Casanova_? Saying all the right things and making his heat flutter like a silly high school girl? Lovino coughed, trying to cover up the embarrassing squeaking noise he made. "I don't believe in that fate crap. That's for superstitious people."

Antonio didn't say anything to that. He just offered him a brighter smile and glowing, _gorgeous_—no! _Stupid_ eyes!

"Lovino, what are you learning?"

"Hah?" Lovino quirked a brow, confused.

"Like, if you attend college, what are you studying?" smiled the Spaniard.

"Oh…" Lovino scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. "I… I'm going to be a graphic artist…" he mumbled.

He was sort of…_ ashamed_. His brother was so talented with every media he could get his hands on—his brother was going to _Europe_ to showcase a collection of his art. Lovino wished he could have some redeeming talent in the arts, but the only thing he could get a hold of—which, spitefully happy, he realized, Feliciano couldn't—was creating art on the computer.

Antonio broke Lovino out of his thoughts. "Really?" he asked, excitedly. "Wow! You're so cool!"

"What?" sputtered Lovino. "That's nothing to get excited about!"

"You're probably really talented!" the Spaniard gushed, cheeks flushed pink in awe. Lovino squirmed in his seat, unused the praise and attention.

Trying to divert the attention off himself he said, "What about you? What do you do? I can't tell by just looking at you."

"I'm studying to be a paediatrician." Replied Antonio happily. "I love working with children and I've always wanted to do something that helps people so, ta-dah!" Antonio spreads his arms out and flailed them a bit for emphasis. "Perfect job!"

Lovino _gaped_. "Y-you're studying to be a doctor! _A doctor_!" It was at this point Lovino realized _holy shit this guy must be _smart! Antonio looked sheepish suddenly, and Lovino felt silly because the reason Antonio looked _shy_ was because he was wide eyed and jaw slack. Correcting his facial expression to something more _fuck you, let's switch topics_, the waitress came by, dropping off two coffees and a big, round plate of strawberry crepes (topped with whip cream).

"Just one plate?" asks Lovino.

"Couples special!" chirped the waitress with a silly grin. She winked at Antonio and skipped off. The Italian flushed and squirmed in his chair, mouth turning into a scowl. He picked up his fork and stabbed the crepe, looking pouty. Antonio made a noise that sounded and awful like "_Buyooohhh!"_ but Lovino chose to ignore it. When Lovino plopped a piece in his mouth, noting _holy crap this café had good crepes. _

"Third question!" Antonio chirped. "Who is your favourite musician?"

"I don't have a favourite music artist." Lovino mumbled. "I just listen to whatever inspires me the most on the day. I like anything. Except German music. That stuff is crap."

"Ah Lovi~! You're so _quirky_!" gushed Antonio.

"S-shut up!" Lovino snapped, but it lacked it's intended bite. "Why are you so damn chipper?"

"Question four for you, Lovino!"

"W-what? But that was rethorical!"

"Nope! And in answer to your question, it's because I'm here with you!"

Lovino flushed more, squirming in his seat.

* * *

><p>The rest of the date—<em>er<em>, _reward_—went smoothly. Antonio didn't stop the conversation nor did he center it on himself. It was pleasant and warm; unlike any date Lovino had been on before. He learned Antonio loved tomatoes _almost _as much as he did ("almost" because Lovino liked tomatoes in ice cream; Antonio did not), Antonio's favourite movie was _Aladdin_, his favourite book was _Lord of the Flies _("Wow, really?" "_Si_!"), and his 'type' was brunettes with sultry brown eyes.

… Lovino tried to ignore how pointedly Antonio looked at him while saying that… also he tried to ignore the wink that accompanied that statement—a wink that would've made his knees buckle if it hadn't been for the fact that he was sitting down. Fiddling with his cup of coffee (which he loaded with packs of sugar while Antonio talked about university and his childhood), Lovino suddenly interjected Antonio.

"Wait, you grew up _on a farm_?" he asked, doubtful.

"_Si_! When I lived in Spain, my parents owned a large amount of acres. We grew tomatoes and grapes, and obviously you know what the grapes were for. My parents are so generous," began Antonio with a wistful look in his eye. "If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here for schooling… I'd probably be taking over the farm."

"… That's wonderful." Lovino said accidentally out loud. He slapped a hand on his mouth and looked away, eyebrow's furrowing. Such a helpful, wonderful loving family… Lovino was envious—it sounded like a dream: two loving parents willing to give all their life savings away in order to ship their boy off for a better education… Lovino was still paying off his first tution at the art college. His grandpa had all but cut off connections with Lovino.

Antonio grabbed Lovino's hand and broke him out of his daze, a sweet smile on his face. "You know Lovino—" Said Italian sucked in a breath, surprised by the use of his full name once again, "—you're wonderful, too."

"D-don't sweet talk me!" Lovino spat, but he knew Antonio caught the embarrassed flush on his face. He turned away, trying to think of an excuse—"I-I gotta use the washroom!" he lied quickly, getting up from his seat and dashing towards the restrooms."

Antonio, none the wiser, nodded happily. "Okay see you soon!"

Once in the safety of a lime green stall, Lovino pulled out his iPhone and began to type hurriedly to Spain.

**INCOMING TEXT: LOVI~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_O.K everything I am about to type to you is written in confidence and confidentiality!_

Lovino tapped 'send' quickly, then started typing again. His iPhone 'ping'ed and he saw _"Of course you can trust me, mi Lovinito~"_

**INCOMING TEXT: LOVI~  
><strong>**TO: SPAIN**

_STFU. Anyway_… _right. so the reward guy, he's…agh, o.k, damn it, he's great. He's being flirty and stuff and I like him back. but Spain… what the hell do I do? I already told this bastard this wasn't a date… he must not think this is date… fuck. Damn it Spain, he's such a fucking dork but it's everything I think I need right now, _Lovino shook his head, back-spacing the last part and finally hitting 'send'.

Banging his head against the stall door, Lovino awaited a text reply. But none came. He glared at this phone, watching the clock as he waited five more minutes…

But once again, no new text.

With a sigh that irked Lovino's chagrin greatly—since when did he care about this stupid Spain bastard? _Since you started becoming friends with him_, a little voice in his head scolded—he unlocked the door and left the bathroom.

He walked calmly to his seat and nodded at Antonio. "Hey." As he looked more closely at the man, he paused and realized how…_serious_ he looked. "… Antonio?" he asked, unsurely. Antonio snapped out of his musings, and quickly mustered up a smiling face.

"Ahh Lovi! You took so long! I thought I would have to save you, ahahaha!"

"W-_what_?" Lovino stuttered. "_Che palle_! As if I would need saving from _you_!"

"That's not what your bag thinks." Winked Antonio.

The Italian gurgled some incoherent sentences.

Before Lovino could bitch him out (okay, maybe not bitch him out), Antonio asked politely, "I think you were texting."

"Huh? That's gross! Texting in the washroom!" protested Lovino.

"Then why is your adorable iPhone out?" asked the Spaniard, gesturing at Lovino's cow-print covered iPhone. Hastily, Lovino shoved his iPhone into his pocket, blushing even deeper than earlier.

While Lovino mumbled excuses, Antonio pulled out his own cellphone, calmy typing a message. Lovino raised an eyebrow—texting on a date, er, _reward_? That's pretty lame. N-not that Lovino was lame for doing it… _no_. Not at all. Nope.

Suddenly Lovino's iPhone rang. Curious (Spain chose _now_ to text him back? The fucker!), he pulled it out of his pockets and looked at the screen.

_I think you should take a chance on him. Because you took a chance on me, didn't you? Lovino, I don't think someone as wonderful as you should deny yourself of some love._

Lovino stared at his screen for a long time, the urge to cry and scream and laugh and cuss hitting him like a mother freakin' freight train.

"Lovino."

The Italian looked away from his text, to look at Antonio. _Oops_, he thought, embarrassed.

And then that freight train multipled by fucking a thousand.

In front of Lovino's face was Antonio's phone, and cleary, like a bright sunny day, on the screen it said: _… right. so the reward guy, he's…agh, o.k, damn it, he's great. He's being flirty and stuff and I like him back. but Spain… what the hell do I do? I already told this bastard this wasn't a date… he must not think this is date… fuck._

The world stopped spinning and Lovino was pretty sure gravity failed, too, since his iPhone fell to the floor way too slowly. "H-how… how did you get that text?" asked Lovino, voice cracking.

Antonio looked serious, but not disturbed. "Lovino… I think you and me both know what is going on here."

"No… no way."

All his hopes and fears. All his stories of betrayal—this guy… Spain… no… _Antonio _knew everything. Every flaw, every nuisance.

Lovino stood up and grabbed his phone, quickly slinging his bag over his shoulder and slapping down a twenty dollar bill. He sprinted away, all but stumbling into the door of White Eyes. Antonio stood up fast, eyes wide and face distraught.

"Lovino! Wait! _Por favor!_"

Lovino didn't stop, clutching the strap of the of his bag until his grip turned white knuckled. His other hand swung back and forth by his side as he ran. He was almost a block away, almost—

A large, warm hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Lovino squawked, elbowing the person behind him. He turned, looking with wide brown eyes at Antonio. He looked desperate, eyes _pleading_. "Lovino, _por favor_, please listen to me! I did not know—"

"You've been tricking me all this time!" Lovino shouted, tugging at his wrist that was in Antonio's hand. Antonio shook his head, face desperate.

"I honestly didn't know it was you until you mentioned 'reward' in the text. And when you came back to our table with your phone… Lovi, look at me." The Spaniard begged, his free hand reaching up to move hair out of the Italian's eyes.

"Don't call me that, bastardo!" Lovino moved from the touch, face flushed in embarrassment and humiliation. Spain had been his safe zone; someone he could talk about all his problems with and not worry about meeting them in real life and being judged. But to actually _face_ the guy who he's typed to about his…his _inferiority _complex against Feliciano, his biased teachers, _his biased peers_; it was as if Lovino was a cup and he just got tilted over. He really _really_ enjoyed the reward—no, _date_ together tonight; but to know that this guy knew how… _pathetic _he was—Lovino couldn't handle it. To his utter mortification tears came out of his eyes. Antonio let go of him in shock, green eyes widening.

"L-Lovino!"

Said Italian shook his head and pushed him away, harshly. "Leave me the fuck alone!" Antonio was momentarily stunned, allowing Lovino to dash off and go turn the corner of the block, eyes catching sight of a row of taxi's waiting for club hoppers to claim them. He heard shouting, but Lovino hopped in a taxi, eyes down and mouth moving. He hadn't even realized he said Alfred's address, too busy trying to ignore the fact that Antonio had been _shouting for him_.

… He also tried not to notice the figure in the rear view mirror, giving up on running and standing in the middle of the sidewalk, slouched.

* * *

><p><strong>Ahahaha… cliff hanger, anyone? :D -JANKZ<strong>


	5. Resend?

**TITLE: **Incoming Text Message  
><strong>FANDOM: <strong>Hetalia  
><strong>PAIRING: <strong>SPAMANO. GERITA, SEYFRA, and pre-USUK implied.  
><strong>SUMMARY: <strong>Lovino Vargas just wanted to text his brother's new cellphone. Instead, he accidentally texts this guy named 'Spain'. What the heck? Moreover, this guy just won't stop freakin' texting Lovino!  
><strong>RATING: <strong>T  
><strong>WARNINGS: <strong>Swearing, AU, fluff, cliché-crap, and OOC-ness.  
><strong>WORD COUNT: <strong>2382

_a/n:_ *SPARKLY EYES* Oh my god, you guys, why are you so nice? I get beautiful email spam from you everyday and ashsdhaskjdsakjhf—I don't deserve such kind comments. ;A;  
><em>an2: _You'll probably maim me for this chapter. ^^; The Romano/Spain contact is _verrryyyy_ nonexistent.  
><em>an3: _I tried to make it angsty but it comes across funny. WHOOPS.

By the way, I don't bite! Feel free to follow me on Tumblr, my name is **bowlerhatfringe**! I like talking with other people so feel free to drop me a line!

**Disclaimer**: I do not claim rights to APH, nor do I make a profit. Simply writing because it's fun.

* * *

><p>When Alfred opened the door to his apartment, he was not expecting a blubbering Italian. Scratch that—even if he <em>hadn't<em> been expecting a blubbering Italian, it wouldn't have been so… surprising if it had been _Feliciano_. But no. In front of him, in their sniffling, sobbing glory, was _Lovino Vargas_.

AKA: a badass motherfucker who _never_ cried (_well_, Alfred thought, _unless circumstances called for it_).

"Bro, what's wrong—" he could hardly get another word out before he was mauled by Lovino. Alfred choked, surprised by the weight of his best friend. "Woah there! Dude! You're heavy! Get off before you kill me!"

Lovino just cried harder, mumbling a garble of incoherent words. "Mmhe triuckebhmd mebh!"

"I don't understand German." Alfred said, but his voice was lower and more relaxed than moments ago. He wrapped his arms around Lovino's waist and forced him into a sitting position, his foot shoving at the door to securely shut it. A screeching and audible 'crack' made Alfred wince._ Shit_, he thought. _I think I broke the door again_. Suddenly Lovino's head thrust upwards, head butting Alfred's chin painfully. Alfred groaned, eyes watering. "Uncool! Ow! Oh, man, that hurt!" He took one of his arms from Lovino's waist and rubbed his sore jaw. _That_ was going to bruise.

"I am _not_ a fucking German!" hissed Lovino. He would have looked a whole lot more intimating if snot wasn't hanging from his nose. Lovino rubbed at his eyes furiously and Alfred cringed.

"Hey, don't do that." He pulled the Italian's hands away from his eyes, noting how puffy and bloodshot they were. He must've been crying for awhile at this rate… "Isn't this your favourite girly sweater?"

"I-It's not girly, you stupid American." Lovino growled, hands twitching in Alfred's grasp. Lovino looked away quickly, snorting. "A-and I'm not crying. I got some really severe a-allergies okay? This time of season is horrible, understand?."

"Mmhm." Alfred hummed, rolling his eyes. "I'd believe you if you _hadn't_ just been on a date. And if I hadn't known you _forever _and know for a_ fact_ you have no allergies. Was he really that ugly?"

"What!" Lovino's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Stupid! He wasn't ugly! Do you think I would go on da—_reward _with someone who looked like a dog? He was great! He was Spanish and grinning and way too tall and way too cheery and whole bunch of other gay shit!"

"… Oooohhh you've got it baddddd!" Alfred smirked, winking at Lovino. Lovino pushed himself away from Alfred and scrambled to stand up, face a fierce red and… Wait, were those _more tears?_ Alfred stood up, brushing his hands against the coarse denim of his pants. He stared determinedly at Lovino. "Lovino," The Italian flinched at the use of his full name. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Lovino turned from Alfred, and the American caught sight of him biting fiercely on his lower lip, as if trying to withhold information. Alfred was having none of it. He grabbed the Italian's wrist and led him towards the living room, ignoring Lovino's sputtering, wet sounding protests. Pushing him onto the couch, Alfred sat on the ground criss-cross apple sauce style, looking at his friend expectantly. "So. What happened?" Lovino looked away with a watery glare. "Dude. C'mon. You were acting like a shy little girl going on a play date earlier—" Lovino gave an indignant screech. "—and like, a blind man could've seen that. So, why? You looked so happy… you didn't have to say anything to me or Feli for us to realize this guy was pretty darn awesome."

Lovino remained silent.

Alfred frowned, blue eyes looking more imploring by the second. "Throw me a bone here! I'm here for you! _We're_ here for you—Feli, Arthur, Michelle, and Kiku! You can tell us anything!"

It took another minute before Lovino spoke.

"He lied to me."

* * *

><p>Antonio lay on Gilbert's bed, groaning and sobbing and wriggling around like he was in excruciating agony—which, apparently as Antonio had been ranting, was the case.<p>

"This is so unawesome, Toni! You're supposed to be all Spanish macho and chase after him!" Antonio sniffled loudly, and Gilbert cringed; he hoped his pillows would forgive him.

Antonio lifted his face away from the snot plastered pillow (_shudder_) and he said, "B-but he was so _angry_! I didn't want to make him any angrier! _It's all my fault!_"

"Mein gott." Gilbert sighed, standing away from the bed to get more tissues. He entered the bathroom connected to his room, carefully rubbing his temples. Damn, he was starting to understand why his brother Luddy did this all the time. Sort of relieved the stress—

"_Loviiiiinooooo_!"

—never mind, fuck that.

Gilbert was a pretty understanding guy, and if he may say so himself, a damn good relationship expert. When Antonio barged into his apartment and looked half dead, Gilbert had freaked out in surprise and worry. But then Antonio started retelling his story. Basically, he had been texting this angry-kid and flirting with him (Gilbert was sad to find out it there was no sexting involved; he was sort of hoping to read something like that) and then this "beautifully gorgeous handsome tomato-cheeked guy came to my cash and started yelling so cutely" totally caught Antonio's attention. After some lost and found shit, Antonio awesomely snagged a date and met the cute kid at White Eyes. But then apparently that's when shit went down: the tomato-cheeked guy was the phone-kid. And tomato-cheeked-phone-kid thought Antonio had been wolfishly stringing him along. But, Gilbert knew Antonio would never be able to hatch something _that_ elaborate. He'd probably burst out in giggles trying to keep it a secret. Or burst with guilt. So, on that note, Gilbert _knew_ that this was all big misunderstanding.

"I, _sniff_, got to, _sniffle_, apolo—_hic_—gize!"

A misunderstanding that reduced his Spaniard friend to a weepy baby. Gott. What was an awesome Prussian to do?

"_MON DIEU!_" Gilbert flinched as he heard his front door slam open. "Antonie! Get up!" Gilbert sighed as he grabbed the tissue box and padded out into his room to see the ruckus, eyes widening as he saw Francis pulling Antonio out of bed. "You are not going to lay here and _cry_! You are going to be a warrior!"

Antonio groaned. "B-but I don't have my Battle Axe!"

"_Non_! You must fight for _l'amor_! You must chase after your little _italienne_!"

Antonio flopped back onto the bed and buried his face into the pillow. Gilbert frowned, shrugging uselessly at the blonde who glared at Antonio's figure. Francis flipped his hair behind his shoulders, eyes glinting with meddling intent. "Antonio, you're going to get out of this bed." Gilbert took a step back. Oh shit. Francis was going into crazy _"I-must-save-zee-love!" _mode. As Francis pulled Antonio out of bed roughly and started ranting about _l'amour_, Gilbert sighed.

… This was going to take awhile. He walked out of his room to the kitchen and opened his fridge; _time to crack open a beer_, he thought.

* * *

><p>Lovino had calmed down considerably now that he was done explaining the events. Yes, his eyes were red and puffy, and yes, his nose looked like something off of a classic Christmas special, but at least he wasn't weeping everywhere. During Lovino's almost incoherent rambling, Alfred had gotten off the ground and curled up into Lovino's side, head propped on his lap so he could watch his friend curse, complain, regret, and blush. Lovino let out a heavy sigh, eyes closing shut and sniffing. Alfred made a face; he half wished he could've given his friend a box of tissues or something.<p>

"So… that's it?" Alfred asked, his blue eyes wide with question. Lovino glared down at him, mouth forming a familiar frown and an obviously annoyed flush working its way onto his cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?" he grumbled.

"Dude, you guys can _totally_ get over that! Just like, I dunno, talk it out! You guys had a lot of fun and stuff and were all coupley and probably made every other couple look stupid in comparison," Alfred took a moment to breathe. "But you guys enjoyed each other's company and that's what counts, right? So what if he was a douche and played you from both sides? He didn't broadcast any of your devastating superhero secrets to the world, right? So just talk it out, Dr. Phil style!" Alfred beamed, proud that he could easily give his friend a solution.

Lovino was gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing for several moments before he shook his head to snap out of it. "Idiot! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! A-and it doesn't matter if we had fun!" Lovino's angry expression crumbled and he looked close to crying again. _Shit_, Alfred inwardly cursed. Lovino mumbled, "He lied to me because he thought he'd rub it in my face. I should've expected something like this, anyway. He was—"_ Too good to be true; too good for someone like me._ "Too nice and shit. Obviously suspicious."

Alfred's hands reached up and began pinching at Lovino's cheeks. Lovino let out a screech of pain and glared furiously at Alfred; Alfred could care less. While he busied his hands by smooshing Lovino's face together, Alfred pouted at his friend. "You have such a low opinion of yourself. Buck up, soldier! You're the coolest guy I know, well, other than Kiku and Matthew and Artie—but don't tell Artie I said that!" Alfred flushed the slightest, squeezing Lovino's cheeks together more. Lovino was swearing furiously, but they were unintelligible sounds rather than what they were intended for. "Anyway, dude, you're super awesome with your art stuff, you make the best Italian food, and you're my BFFWBOTS! Who could ask for a better bro?" Alfred relinquished his hold and Lovino threw Alfred off him, rubbing at his reddened and sore cheeks. Alfred laughed from the floor, sat up, and beamed widely.

"You're my best friend. And as your best friend, I say you shouldn't think everyone is out to get you! Go home, get some sleep, and text the dude for a coffee. Best part: he'll have to buy the coffee as an apology." Lovino determinedly looked away. Alfred grinned conspiratorially, "My suggestion, the most expensive coffee on the menu with the most expensive doughnut! Like, make it so he pays ten bucks or something! Super revenge, am I right?"

"You are so evil I'm quivering in my shoes. What ever will I do?" Lovino deadpanned. He huffed and stood up, ignoring Alfred who was giving him puppy eyes.

"Well c'mon! I'm a hero! Evil plans aren't easy for me!"

"Shut up, Alfred." Alfred smiled—Lovino may have been scowling as he said that, but there was a quirky fondness to it. Alfred let out a exhale of relief and made a shooing gesture with his hand.

"Now get out of here! You're probably killing your brother by taking so long! It's been like, two hours! He probably wants all the sparkly gay details!" Lovino glared, kicked Alfred back onto the floor who in turned whimpered, and stalked out of the house without so much as a 'goodbye'. Alfred remained on his floor, staring at the ceiling with a smile.

Being a hero to a friend felt good.

_Beep_.

Alfred dug his hand into his jean pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping it open and blinking owlishly at the screen.

**INCOMING TEXT: Lovino Vargas  
>TO: Alfred F. Jones<strong>

_Thanks_.

Alfred grinned, snapping the phone shut with satisfaction.

* * *

><p>When Lovino jangled his keys into the rusty slot of his door, he sighed shakily in trepidation. Feliciano would most definitely jump him. He wasn't sure if he was ready for an inquisition by his bouncy brother, and he was definitely not ready to relay the events of earlier again. Mustering up courage, he pushed open the door and stepped in, locking it behind him and quickly toeing off his shoes. As expected, Feliciano practically <em>flew<em> towards him, squeaking and smiling and _god he must be shooting fucking rainbows out of his eyes_.

"Fratelllloo! How did it go? Did he move the chair out before you sat down? Was he really handsome? Did he like your clothes? Did you guys hold hands? What did you talk about? Ve~ is he shy like Luddy? Oh, oh, oh! Did he pay for the meal? Did you two kiss—"

"Feli!" Lovino interrupted. He grabbed at the strap of his bag across his chest, hands clenching tightly. "It didn't…" Lovino wanted to say something that could justify his hurt and anger, but, Feliciano looked so damn expectant for good news… maybe he could lie about it. Tomorrow. Because he sure as hell didn't feel like improvising right now. It was ten at night, and he was fucking _tired_; the massive headache he had made things worse. "I'll tell you all the details in the morning, okay? I'm tired right now." Awkwardly, he patted Feli's shoulder and walked right passed him to go to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

His body slumped against the door and he slid down, hands going to his face. He didn't realize he was crying again until he could feel tears dripping down his palms to his wrists and further, which, quite frankly, made him feel grosser than before. He wiped at his nose, past the point of being mortified of ruining his sweater. His head lolled against the door, eyes staring at the ceiling. He licked his bottom lip before he said, clear as a bell, "Fuck you, Spanish bastard." His chest clenched uncomfortably and he blinked away the last of his tears, giving another loud sniffle. "Fuck this shit. Gotta stop being a baby." he mumbled to himself.

He stood up and went into his closet, pulling out a navy top and some pyjama pants. He slipped off his clothes and put the night wear on, hands rubbing at his sore face once he was done. He would seriously need to wash his face tomorrow; he felt sticky and sickly.

When he turned off the lights and fell against his bed, Lovino really hated how the image he fell asleep to was Antonio's slumped figure in the rain.

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><p><strong>Next chapter is the last chapter! Hopefully I won't take forever to post it! For those who were concerned: there <em>is<em> a happy ending. I'm terrible with angst. ^^; Thank you for reading this chapter!**

**P.S: How would guys feel about an epilogue chapter that goes a year into the future? Drop me a PM, review, or Ask at Tumblr if you have any ideas/opinions. (^_^)**


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